Five Times Amy and Sheldon Didn't Meet
by xLostInTheSun
Summary: ... And One Time They Did. - Part 4: The Frienship Algorithm. Amy's on yet another one of her annual mystery dates to please her mother when someone catches her eye. - A "Five Things" fic inspired by by Lio's idea at the Shamy thread at Fanforum.


******Summary:** Self-explanatory. Five early near-misses between the Shamy, and the time they _finally_ came face to face. Spoilers for Seasons 1 – 3.******  
**Chapter summary: Amy's on yet another one of her annual mystery dates to please her mother when someone else catches her eye.  
**Author's Note:** This is a collaboration between fanfic writers FoxPhile, Lionne6, LostInTheSun, Musickat18, WeBuiltThePyramids, and XMarisolX. It was inspired by a fantastic idea Lio came up with during a discussion in the Shamy thread at Fanforum. The previous story in this series (of the same name) was written by fellow Shamy shipper Misickat18. Go read it! You won't regret it.  
And a special thanks to Marisol and Lio who corrected my text as well as wrote one, and FoxPhile who made us the art thingy.  
As stated in the summary, this is part four. Don't forget to check Part 1 (by XMarisolX), Part 2 (by WeBuiltThePyramids), Part 3 (by Musikat18) before mine, and Bart 5 by Lionne6 and Part 6 by FoxPhile when they're up!  
**Disclaimer:** _The Big Bang Theory_ is an American sitcom created by Chuck Lorre and Bill Prady, and is produced by them along with Steve Molaro. It is a Warner Brothers production and airs on CBS. All characters, plots and creative elements derived from the source material belong exclusively to their respective owners. The authors of this fan fiction, do not, in any way, profit monetarily from the story.

* * *

Five minutes into her date, Amy knew it'd be as dull and irritating as the previous ones. Not that she had hoped otherwise anyway; her mother's insistence on seeing her dating was starting to get really tiresome, and—George Foreman grill or not—they would have to talk about her freedom in the near future.

Alfred Hermann had sent her a message three nights before, inviting her to the climbing club he went to at least once a week. "It would be nice for you to be introduced to a big part of my life," he had said, and Amy had wanted to answer that she had no interest in spending time with someone who saw rock climbing as a decent activity. She had then, however, remembered her deal with her mother, and so her answer had turned out to be a polite and falsely enthusiastic "I'd love to, Alfred. Sincerely, Amy Farrah Fowler."

There she was, five minutes after two, waiting near the club's entrance. Alfred Hermann had either stood her up (which would mean that her mother would pester her into another date), or he was simply late, which would make her annoyed for the rest of the afternoon. It might have been old-fashioned, but Amy firmly believed in punctuality, and whoever didn't hold himself to the same standard wasn't worth her time.

The man hadn't even showed up yet that Amy already knew that this date would be both dull and irritating.

When Amy next glanced down at her watch, another five minutes had gone by, and Alfred Hermann still was nowhere in sight. Sighing, she thought about simply leaving without any remorse, when a voice she had never heard before called her name.

"Amy Farrah Fowler?"

Turning her head, she was greeted by the smiling face of a man in his early forties, hair a little grey around the ears and wrinkles under his eyes. He was wearing a navy blue tracksuit and carrying a red backpack. Amy suddenly felt overdressed in her grey skirt, her blue shirt and her yellow cardigan.

"I assume you are Alfred Hermann?" she said, although it wasn't really an assumption for Alfred Hermann looked exactly like he did on the picture he had posted on the website: average and boring.

"The one and only," he said with an annoying little laugh. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. One of my kids hurt himself and I had to tend to the wound."

Oh, right. He had mentioned having kids. Amy's bet was that they probably were even worse than their father.

"Haven't you got sports clothes?" he then asked, noticing that Amy didn't have a bag.

"I do not intend on climbing anything as I do not harbor a death wish nor the need to look like an idiot," she said. She could tell it threw Alfred Hermann off a bit.

He quickly recovered, though, and with a smile, said, "Your loss."

_Definitely_, she thought. _Loss of an afternoon I could have spent working._

**ooo**

Amy sat straighter in her chair as Alfred Hermann got up to get their drinks—a latte for him, tepid water for her. He had agreed to a little more conventional "drink and chat" in the gym cafeteria before going to climb his wall, and for that Amy was grateful. She hated having drinks with men from dating websites, but she reckoned it would surely be better than just watching him climb.

Alfred Hermann hadn't been at the counter for ten seconds when her phone started ringing. Amy sighed, knowing very well who it would be. She still checked, in case her lab was calling to let her know they had made a breakthrough and needed her on the spot, but when she saw her mother's name flashing in bright blue letters on her phone screen, she simply rolled her eyes and let the ringtone blare until her mother gave up.

A few minutes later, Alfred Hermann was back at the table with the aforementioned beverages.

"There you go," he said cheerfully, passing Amy her glass, and she silently thanked him with a nod of her head. He smiled. "So, Amy," he continued, "what do you do for a living?"

It took all of Amy's strength not to sigh. Not a single one of her dates ever understood her answer to this question, and Amy had really grown tired of trying to answer it.

"I'm a neur—"

Just as Amy was about to throw herself into a round of stupid questions yet again, a voice somewhere behind her caught her interest.

"I'm telling you, Kripke...Barry...String Theory is the future of Physics. One day you'll see I was right and all I'll be able to do is look at you with a look of haughty derision. Or I might say "I told you so." Maybe even both."

"Gweat, Coopew. Can't wait fow that to stawt."

The two men who were talking walked past their table, straight to the counter, and without even realizing it, Amy's gaze followed them, her eyes riveted on their backs. They both had brown hair, but their resemblances stopped there. One of them—the one who had a lisp—was short and apparently athletic, while the other was tall and lanky. Not one to care much for muscles, Amy's gaze lingered a bit longer on the tallest man's back. He was wearing a weirdly fitting ensemble of beige pants, red tee-shirt and purple undershirt and, even though Amy couldn't see his face, she somehow knew that if he were to look in her direction, she'd see nothing but confidence.

Amy wasn't one to foolishly fall for boys she didn't know—she didn't even fall for the few she actually knew—but she strangely found herself drawn to this one.

"So, Amy, about your work?"

Alfred Hermann's voice drew Amy's back to the present moment.

"Um, right, sorry," she said, way too flustered for her own liking. "I am a neuroscientist."

Alfred Hermann looked like he was about to ask what that was, but Amy held up a hand and added, "Can you please hold that thought?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the two men walk away from the counter and towards a table, their order in hand. The smallest man had ordered a coffee while the tallest one was obviously having a tea, chamomile. If Amy wasn't mistaken—and she probably wasn't—they were animatedly talking about physics.

Granted, Amy wasn't that big on physics and was unknowledgeable about the differences between String Theory and Loop Quantum Gravity, but the fact that someone would choose to go into the sciences was always a big plus for her. There were way too many people going into pointless careers, careers like acting or, even worse, literary jobs. It was always good to see more people who had chosen the right path.

She listened to both men as they vividly discussed their topic. She found herself looking more often than not at the taller one. She regretted not being able to see his face, and craned her neck for a better look, to no avail. What she saw, however, she liked: tall, lanky, and skin with a pale, waxy quality? It was enough to make a girl drool. Not that Amy would drool. She had standards.

"Shut up, Coopew," said the smaller man. "I'm hewe because I want to cwimb, not because I want to heaw you be a pain in the ass. You do that enough at wowk."

_Colleagues, then, _Amy thought_. And the smaller man was clearly intimidated by Cooper's intellect, wasn't he?_

"Fine, Kripke. By refusing to engage in this discussion, you're simply proving me right."

Kripke rolled his eyes, drank his coffee in one gulp and got up.

"Okay Coopew, wet's cwimb that bitch."

Cooper had the decency to appear shocked by Kripke's language, but he couldn't protest for Kripke was already out of the coffee shop. Shrugging, Cooper followed, and Amy watched him until he was out of her sight.

"Erm, Amy?"

Amy's gaze snapped back to Alfred Hermann and she said:

"Sorry, Alfred. Let's go climb this thing."

**ooo**

Leaning against one of the blue walls, waved occasionally at her date while silently observing Kripke and, more importantly, Cooper. She could finally catching a glimpse of his profile, or what she could make of it under his protective helmet. He was the only one in the room who had thought about this protection, which was inexplicably titillating for Amy. Well, no; it wasn't inexplicable at all. Actually, this meant that out of all the males in the gym, Cooper was the only one to realize he wasn't invincible, and this foresight made him the most suitable mate because he obviously was thinking about the survival of the species. Obviously.

That train of thought was a surprise to Amy, because she wasn't looking for a mate. She had been, once, when she was still a teenager and desperately wanting to fit in. Ever since, however, she had closed herself off and now preferred to think she could choose to never be involved with anyone else. But as it had only taken one lanky physicist and a helmet to make her think otherwise, Amy realized she was still as weak as the twenty-year old girl she once was.

Suddenly very annoyed at herself (and at Cooper), Amy's eyes turned poisonous and it got even worse when she realized that as much as she wanted to, she still couldn't look away. This Cooper idiot and his stupid helmet had bewitched here, except that Amy didn't believe in magic (thank you very much), and the simple fact that she would think about magic in a moment like this was enough to make her even angrier. She needed something to make her look away—and quickly—when she remembered Alfred Hermann had left his bag with her. Amy crouched down and opened it, pretending to look for something, internally cringing at the chaos that was this bag, where no clothing was folded. She even found a single clean sock, which was especially maddening because _socks went in pairs_.

And then, seemingly coming out of thin air, a voice that sounded suspiciously like her mother's rang in Amy's head:

_I bet Cooper shares your aversion to chaos and that a date with him would be ten times more interesting._

Amy growled—literally. Those were the times she remembered how similar to monkeys human beings were; sure, her reactions had been primal and animalistic, but she didn't care—she loved monkeys. Amy had really growled because somehow, she knew the voice—her subconscious, obviously. She didn't really believe her mother had the power to invade her mind like this.

Defeated, she sighed, looking up, only to find Cooper dangling from the roof. He had visibly passed out and was now seemingly sleeping midair, a simple rope preventing his fall to the ground.

Amy sighed. This was a new development. Cooper was obviously weak—he wouldn't have passed out otherwise—and so not the mate she had somehow imagined. But whether her sigh was one of disappointment or of relief, she wasn't sure—and didn't want to dwell on it.

"I'm going home," she shouted to Alfred Hermann, and left without even waiting for his answer.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks again to Lio and Marisol for the beta job, and thank YOU for reading! **Be sure to check out the next story in the series, a wonderful vignette by** **Lionne**.


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